


Song bird

by 3_40AM



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Both of them are having some issues, Charlie is in this, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gen, Homelessness, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Maxwell can't let go of Charlie, Maxwell is a rich man who spends too much time with prostitutes, Maxwell meets Wilson and kidnaps him, More tags to be added, Physical Abuse, Prostitution, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, There's gunna be ocs in this, Unhealthy Relationships, Wilson is a singer for a bar, set in the 30s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:57:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3_40AM/pseuds/3_40AM
Summary: A wealthy man by the name of Maxwell Carter finds himself at a bar in Vegas, where he meets a desperate singer in need of money by the name of Wilson. Wilson reminds Maxwell of someone, and it brings up bitter feelings.Heed the tags,my friends





	1. Chapter 1

Here he sat, his warm cushioned seat fit for a king hugging  against him as he puffed his cigar, his icy silver eyes staring at a familiar portrait of the woman he loves. Charlie meant everything to him, the young woman lighting up his world like no other. He liked younger women, rather than women his age who manly focused on housework and their appearances, he found joy in meeting with younger ladies. Charlie, however, wasn't fond of the idea. She was pleasant to him, and good friend, she said, but looked at their relationship no farther than that. Maxwell hated Charlie, the way she courted the younger, more good looking men who accompanied her better. The way she treated him compared to other men. The way she ran off with her lover to marry, leaving Maxwell to wallow. The British man could never fall in love in his youth, and thought it was his happy ending when he met Charlie, but he was wrong. He often spent nights with strange women, pleasing his needs then shooing them away with their payment. He also relied much on his alcohol, though he never drank anywhere else besides his mansion and the bars he visited.   
  
He stared at the image of the young woman, though in his mind, someone else was on his mind. A young fellow, a bit older than Charlie is, captured his mind. The way his raven hair shined, his slim face stuck in a sad expression, those gold orbs that never looked into a person's eyes, his voice. The male,despite the doubtful listeners who complained about the man taking the stage, was an amazing singer, his voice high but low enough, smooth like a trumpet's song, refreshing from the high flute and violins of the woman who sang. Maxwell had learned his name from a regular who frequented the bar often, and from then on Maxwell only thought of the young man. Apart of him knew that Wilson Percival Higgsbury reminded him of Charlie, the way he looked, sometimes the way his face would flush when the crowd clapped for him. Even that shy, nervous smile he wore as he bowed to the crowd.

Maxwell shifted in his seat, peeling his eyes away from the portrait to stare at his door. The little man of his mind would be singing tonight. He thought for a moment, his eyes back to the portrait. A smile appeared on his face and he stood, covering the portrait with a red sheet. He prepared, grabbing his clean coat and slipping it on. 

 

++++++

 

His soft voice spoke to Maxwell, said man was in the back, cigar lighting up in the shadows as he watched. Wilson seemed to glow in the spotlight, his porcelain skin pale in the soft beam that only made him more angelic. Maxwell examined what he could from the distance, admiring the way his blue vest wrapped him snugly, the way his dark hair contrast against his thin face. Maxwell smiled with a breath of smoke, having planned to confront the little song bird, and was a matter of time when he could put that plan to work.

Eventually the time came when the song slowed to a stop, and the crowd began clapping as the small male smiled softly, bowing and waving as he walked off stage. It was time for action, Maxwell stood from leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to the man before he could lose him, watching as Wilson was greeted by a few of the guests. Upon reaching them, Maxwell could hear them complimenting Wilson, which the older man didn't care much for, he only listened to Wilson and waited. Once Wilson was freed from the others, Maxwell stepped forward, grabbing the attention of the small song bird, gold eyes meeting silver. Maxwell smiled, nearly wanting to scoop Wilson up right there, but that would only cause trouble, so he simply greeted.

"You are Percival, yes? I must say, you have quite the voice." He stretched his hand out to Wilson, who took it and went to shake, only to have it lifted to Maxwell's lips. Wilson tensed under the gesture, but continued anyways," Yes, thank you." Maxwell chuckled, releasing the younger man's hand and standing to his fullest height. He rolled in the thought that he towered the smaller male, even if most others seemed taller than him, he knew his height would make it easier to get the job done.

"Might I ask, what are you doing tonight?" He looked around the room before returning to Wilson, who seemed timid in the drunk environment. Wilson shook his head, wringing his hands slightly. Maxwell nodded, gesturing to a nearby empty table,"Care to chat?"

Wilson looked between him and the table, then nodded with a shy smile. Both men seated, Wilson's posture straight and awkward as Maxwell's was laid back, puffing his cigar as he motioned a waitress over. She set aside two drinks, in which Wilson rejected, saying he didn't like drinking. He was instead given a water. After taking a long sip, his silver eyes having yet to leave Wilson, he set his glass down and leaned on the table, fingers laced under his chin.

"So tell me, Percival, what do you do as a profession? You are quite the singer, I wouldn't be surprised to hear of you in other bars." He watched Wilson's movements, the way he sipped his water before speaking, his head shaking. "I only work here."

Maxwell raised his brows, perhaps Wilson was wealthy, or apart of a wealthy family,"I suppose you have riches then, male singers in bars like these don't always get paid well." Wilson shook his head again, an awkward smile on his lips,"oh no, I don't have much money besides what they give me." Maxwell was in surprise now, fulling listening," Do explain."

Wilson peeked up at him from messing with his gloves, eyeing the man awkwardly,"You never introduced yourself.."

And right, he didn't. Maxwell gasped, placing a hand over his chest when he realized,"Goodness, you are right, where are my manners." He stood up from the table and bowed before seating again,"I am Maxwell Carter, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Wilson nodded back, watching the older male before he spoke.

"I uh, I'm homeless.."

Maxwell arched his brows, but let Wilson go on, Wilson turned his gaze around the bar,"I couldn't get a better job due to my mother, and I ended up trying to beg for money when I was sent from my family home. I ended up singing mostly, since that was the only time people gave any money." He looked up to Maxwell, who was listening intently,"Eventually I made it around here, and the bar owner came across me and offered a job as a singer. It doesn't pay much, and tips are rare since the bar caters mostly to men, but I use whatever I can get to survive.."  


Maxwell nodded, shifting slightly to get more comfortable before letting out a sigh,"Where do you live, if you don't mind me asking." Wilson shrugged, thanking the waitress for the refill,"My employer helped me into a cheap motel, and I stay there." Maxwell felt bad for the man so young, forced from his family with no money, no home, no family. Apart of him felt sympathy, but the stronger part of him noted how this information could be useful. He raised his hand, straightening his back before speaking,"I am a wealthy man. I live in a mansion and live quite lavishly. I could drop my job and be financially fine until I dropped dead, and longer." He rested his hand on Wilson's, a smile appearing on his face," I am willing to help you, Percival. I will give you what money you need to steady yourself so you can find a better living." Wide eyes stared at him, deciding whether or not this was a joke from the rich. His mouth was open but no words formed, Wilson could only gawk at the declaration as if it was a train that hit him. Maxwell smiled, rubbing his thumb over the male's softer skin before rising from his seat,"I have more cash in my vehicle, would you kindly join me to retrieve it and discuss what we can do to help you?"  


Wilson stared dumbly before nodding, his eyes wide and unbelieving,"T-thank you Mr Carter, I-i don't know how to thank you for this-"He stood, following the taller male."You can figure out how to thank me once I helped you, no sooner are you allowed to."Maxwell looked over his shoulder and gazed at the man, a much sinister smile painting his lips. They managed to get outside, where Maxwell lead Wilson to his car, making quick glances around to make sure there was no one else that could see them. As Wilson neared the car, Maxwell gestured him forward, just enough to be behind another car, where he pulled something from his pocket.  
  
Wilson's smile faded instantly when he turned and met face to face with a gun, his eyes widening and raising his hands defensively. Maxwell watched with amusement, stepping forth and forcing Wilson to move back beside the car."I-i can give you what money I have..Please don't shoot me, I don't want to die.." His fearful gold eyes were glued to the revolver pointed to his face, and he was visibly shaking.

Maxwell, tilted his head,"Then get in the vehicle."Wilson looked up at the man, words caught before they could leave by Maxwell's sudden harsh voice,"If you want to live, get in the vehicle."

With no room for hesitation, Wilson pulled the car door open clumsily and crawled inside, letting Maxwell close it before making his way to his side of the car. Even as he sat, the gun remained on Wilson, who almost curled in on himself in the seat,"W-why are you doing this..I have nothing.." Maxwell didn't answer at first, busy getting him and his hostage away from the public bar and onto the road. He was smiling like a fool, having pulled that off much better than he expected. He would turn to peek at Wilson, who stayed quivering, his eyes on the gun in hopes it wouldn't kill him.

"You're gunna stay with me, little bird, I'm going to keep you with me."

Wilson hiccuped,"Why..I don't want to go..I don't want to be kidnapped..." It didn't matter what Wilson wanted, Maxwell thought. He smiled at himself,"And you want to go back there? No home, no family, no money?" He looked at Wilson again,"I'm not going to kill you unless you try to escape."

"Why me..."Maxwell almost couldn't hear him, his voice shaking and soft. Maxwell sighed in thought,"Because you reminded me of something, something I've desired for a long, long time. I have to have you, and considering you have nothing else to stay around for, I'll be taking you."

Silence stretched between the two,besides the sniffling from Wilson's end. It was rather late and the drive to and from would be awhile, his mansion was pretty far from the bar. All was worth it, he thought, he ha his bird and that's all he needed. In his mind, the memory of Charlie played, her telling Maxwell that he needed to leave her alone, her walking away, arm in arm with her fiance. He didn't need her anymore, he looked to his captive, who had gone very quiet during the drive, slumped against the window.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The little bird sat in the chair, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, face buried and hidden. Maxwell only stared, watching his stone prisoner in the quiet. He had managed his kidnapping well, but now that he had his bird, he wasn't sure what to do. The moment the two made it to his mansion, Wilson closed up and remained that way, likely falling asleep too. Maxwell sighed, he should have expected this, he mentally slapped himself for thinking something else would happen. At least Wilson wasn't trying to escape or call for help, perhaps he knew. The Brit shifted, idea in mind and plan set out, he left the room and went upstairs. He'd have to gain trust from Wilson, that was a given, and surely it couldn't be hard for a homeless poor with no family or friends. Maxwell smiled, preparing the guest bed and dusting stands and shelves. The man had no clue what Wilson liked beyond music, the younger probably didn't even like music. Maxwell would learn with time, he returned downstairs, happy to see Wilson hadn't moved from his spot on in the chair, more than well asleep. 

While the man was smaller, he was definitely heavier, or at least heavy to Maxwell's noodle arms. He hefted the extra weight up the stairs to the room, where he lay the smaller down and tucked him in, after removing his shoes and waistcoat. It was pleasant, Maxwell thought, he sat to Wilson's side, brushing his fingers through black locks. It had been quite some time, he couldn't deny that he was getting lonely as the years passed. Everything would be okay, now that he had his bird, he leaned down, giving a light kiss to Wilson's forehead. He gazed one last time before letting his prince rest, returning to his own room to clock out for the night.

 

+++++

 

He shifted,waking to the comfort of a nice mattress, cozy covers, soft and safe. It was something he couldn't afford, he realized, and that woke him fully. He turned his head, looking around the rather empty room, all besides a desk and two nearly empty shelves, a few books piled neatly in them. The walls were a light blue, delicate patterns of flowers running in matching lines along the paint, white borders and door frames. A gold light bolted to the ceiling, almost like a mini chandelier, and a matching gold light switch beside the door. The the right of Wilson is a small stand, white in color and supporting a lamp, which was on. He reached and turned the knob implanted at it's base, flicking the light off as he sat up, swinging his legs to the edge of the bed. This wasn't his apartment, he knew this, it was his kidnapper's home. The night's memories flooded him and he felt suddenly uneasy, wondering where his kidnapper was, or what he had done. 

He stood, clothed feet touching the bare light brown wood floors, which didn't dare squeak under his weight, new and polished, as well as the door. The hallway, while the walls weren't blue, much of it remained similar to the bedroom, elegant and fresh looking. He looked to both ends, debating on which direction to go, though, he stopped. A smell entered his system, and he stomach spoke it's distress. Something smelled good, bacon, he thought. It was likely his captor was the cause of it, in the kitchen somewhere in the home, and Wilson didn't want to follow it, instead seek a way out. His stomach won the was, his feet leading down the stairs, following the scent like a starved hound. He peeked around the corner, spotting the man in a white robe, cracking an egg swiftly and dumping the innards into a bowl. Wilson stood awkwardly, not sure what to really do, his gaze traveling the room. 

The kitchen was yellow, borders white and counter tops a brown. A few pictures of painted farms or forests hung on the wall, a few paintings of geese by the kitchen table, mother bird being followed by fluffy balls of fur next to a beautiful pond, lilies and other plant life hidden within the tall grass. Wilson couldn't help but to think of his grandmother, who adored but could never afford paintings like these.

"Enjoying the decor?" the voice beside him was familiar, but held no suspense. A voice of a man who woke no longer than an hour ago, starting his day with yawns and stretches. Wilson looked at Maxwell, seeing the man poor juice into a cup before filling another. The Brit came over carefully, holding a glass, gesturing to the table,"Have a seat, food will be finished shortly."

Wilson didn't make an effort to move, not surprising Maxwell, he expected the bird to be hesitant. He walked over, setting the glass down and pulling out a chair,"I have no reason to try to kill you, what would the effort of bringing you here be for if I was only going to make you a dead man?"

"So you are going to sell me?" Wilson's eyes narrowed, staying put where he was. Maxwell snorted, his grip on the chair loose as he stood straight, looking to meet Wilson's eyes,"Tell me, Percival, do I look like the type of man who would do that? To a man like you?" He swerved around the open chair back to the stove, though he continued," Despite what you may think of me, I have no reason to sell you off, either. The black market isn't much of my thing, that and I'm getting much too old for something like that." He stirred an egg, adding it to the pan and seasoning it gently with salt and pepper. " I didn't take my time to take you because I wanted to harm you, or kill you, it's pointless."

"Men are crazy enough these days to do things like that.." Said Wilson, who had finally taken his seat in the chair offered, he had yet to touch the juice though. Maxwell grunted in response, turned to Wilson with a soft smile,"If I were mad like the men you know, I wouldn't be here right now." He raised his hands, mimicking a man behind bars before turning back the stove. Wilson's expression didn't change.

"So you have kidnapped before?"

"Oh, heaven's no, you're the only one. I would have probably failed if I tried going after someone else." Wilson shifted his gaze away, looking at a window set ajar, brown curtains pulled aside. Outside was calming to Wilson, a healthy field of grass accompanied by a few trees and willows, and if he looked further, he could see a river through the thick reeds and grass. 

Maxwell had noticed him looking, attention away from the cooking food. He never went outside unless it was to tend his garden, and he had never gone back there, never needed to anymore. He sighed silently,  reaching for a china plate and preparing the food,"There's a garden to the side, off where you can't see."

Wilson looked up at the older male, listening as he watched his food be brought over and placed gently in front of him. Maxwell furthered," You are free to go back there, if you need air. As large as this place may be, it does get rather stuffy." He took his own plate to his own spot across from Wilson, seating himself and digging into his sausage. Wilson watched silently before looking down to his own plate, to which he eventually gave in and began picking from. Maxwell chuckled," You may wanna slow down, pal, it would be bad if you choked."

Wilson didn't reply, but he slowed and chewed his eggs. Maxwell resumed his eating but kept the conversation up,"I normally don't wake this early to prepare a meal, but I suspected you would be pretty hungry." Wilson nodded, though he wasn't quite paying attention.

"Tell me, Percival, what is it you like?"

Wilson paused and looked up, his cheeks full of bacon, looking much like a chipmunk. He chewed and swallowed, blinking at the elder man's face,"What?"

Maxwell waved his hand around, grasping for words as he nibbled on toast,"Well, I mean like, objects you like, _things_ ,something a young man like you wants." Wilson turned his gold eyes, shifting the fork in his left hand,"I'm not young, and..,"He paused, causing Maxwell to raise a brow,"and..I like science."

Raised eyebrows they were, Maxwell blinked at his captive,"Science."he echoed thoughtlessly. Wilson lowered his head, regretting even speaking up. After a moment, the soft smile returns to the Brit's face, and he took a quick sip of his drink,"A work of the devil, as they would say, quite an interesting hobby."

Wilson made a face, something between horror and sadness, he leaned back in his seat and dropped his fork. Maxwell set his fork down lightly, dabbing his lips with a napkin,"Come now, I'm not like those other people. I personally don't care if you like science or worship the devil himself." Wilson huffed loudly, arms folded over his chest like a child,"Science has nothing to do with the devil at all.."

Maxwell nodded, his smile gone to a rather serious expression, leaning forward with his hands clasped together on the table. He examined Wilson, the way he behaved to what he said, he raised a brow,"Have they done something to you, Percival?"

Wilson froze, his eyes looking up at Maxwell, wide,"How would you-.." Maxwell shrugged,"I couldn't help but notice how reclusive you are, I had an idea something happened and this could only prove my suspicions." Wilson let his head droop, allowing himself to remember, Maxwell's stare only got harder,"Was it your mother?"

Wilson shook his head,"No..She didn't do..much, but she was the cause of it.."

Maxwell tilted his head, interested," So she got others to hurt you?" Wilson had pushed his plate further away, no longer hungry. He didn't want to talk about this, already he was easy to see through, what more did he have to say? He gave a short sigh, keeping his eyes away,"I don't wanto talk about this anymore.. can we move to another subject..?"

Maxwell waited a moment before giving a nod, releasing the conversation to something else. The two finished their meals, cleaning the mess of the kitchen before Maxwell excuses himself and heads off somewhere upstairs, leaving Wilson confused as to what he was supposed to do. He wandered a bit, looking at every piece of decor, finding attraction to it more than he should. If he wasn't kidnapped and brought here against his will, he wouldn't mind staying in a place such as this. It was huge, many rooms and plenty more upstairs. The ravenette began to wonder why this man lived here by himself, why didn't he have a wife, or anyone. He acknowledged that there was an absence of maids, another thing striking odd to him. Surely he had the money, and a man of his age couldn't keep up the cleaning himself. 

As with the thought, he found himself in the main room, a large sofa seated in the middle, a table surrounded by soft chairs, one looking familiar of the one he fell asleep in last night. He sighed, touching the arm. What was he to do...

"Are you alright?" The sudden voice made the younger jump, spinning to see Maxwell fixing his tie,  _trying_ to fix his tie. "You need to warn me rather then startling me, doing that.."

Maxwell snickered, walking over to a nearby hung mirror to wrestle with the damned garment,"Or what? You'll hurt me? Please-"he gave a frustrated groan, turning and trudging over to Wilson, who watched wearily,"-fix this tie, would you. I need to be heading off soon."

Heading off? Off where? Work? Wilson quietly did as he was told, attempting to ignore Maxwell's eyes on him. Too close, they were far too close for his comfort, he could feel the breath leave the lips of the taller man as he hurried with the tie. A hand to his cheek stunned him, freezing his progress entirely. He raised his eyes, meeting the silver stare of the other, his breath stopped. A gloved thump rubbed against his cheekbone, shuddered aches of panic rising up in him as he stood paralyzed. Maxwell wasn't noticing Wilson's obvious discomfort, continuing to touch the thin face, feeling the dark hair through the leather gloves, those wide eyes staring back at him.

He cupped his hand under her chin, lifting it slightly, thumbing her chin. He leaned close, feeling her warm breath on his lips as his name was called. His heart beat against his chest, shutting his eyes to claim her. 

An especially hard knock to his chest sent his eyes open, and he looked down, where stood not her, but Wilson, shaking and attempting to pull away from the now hardened grip. Maxwell was lost in emotion now, looking at the younger man with lost interest, still clinging to what he felt moments ago. She was gone, and she wouldn't come back. Maxwell's attention became clearer and he looked sourly at the singer. Wilson reminded him of her, the way she acted sometimes, even by appearance. Maxwell would need to train Wilson, perfect him. Maxwell would have her.

He gave a sudden sneer, hand on the smaller chin shoving hard enough to knock Wilson against the chair. Maxwell reached into his coat pocket, grasping for a cigar before whipping out his lighter. With his back turned, he prepared his morning cigar, planning for what he would say next.

"You are free to roam, there are no limits except two." He turned, no soft features present except a cold stare,"Do not try to run away, and don't try to entire the room at the end of the hall upstairs." Wilson blinked, much too shocked from earlier, he watched Maxwell cross the room to the front door, grabbing the handle and pulling it open. He breathed in the summer air before giving a fake smile,"Be good,Dear." 

And off he went, leaving and shaking Wilson, still leaning on the arm of the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really like this, so expect updates quickly.  
> Sorry for any errors
> 
> Also the mansion in this story, while it has way more rooms I had to make up, is heavily based of my great grandmothers home up north, I visited one and I remember the large backyard and the river where me and my cousin would play.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry for the longer delay on this chapter, I've been dealing with personal stuff and didn't feel right to try and write while in a foul mood. Things are getting better tho!
> 
> A few things before we start is, I apologize if the chapters are short ! I have the attention span of a grape and writing for longer periods of time end up gutting my brain empty. I'd rather write short chapters that are interesting and have a longer book than long boring chapters and a shorter book, yknow ?
> 
> Finally, this story does have it's bad ends with Wilson and Maxwell, but I plan for some much nicer stuff as well, it won't be all dark and depressing, I promise !
> 
> Anyways, thank you for your patience and reading !

He sighed, laying on his side, facing away from the woman on the other side of the bed.  
Maxwell wasn’t fond of doing this, a waste of money, but his needs controlled him far too much.  
The women were young, beautiful, but not loyal, and they only reminded him of how desperate  
he is.

  
Said woman was smoking, sheets pulled over herself, cherry red hair poured down one  
shoulder. Roxanne was a frequent for Maxwell, one of very few who didn’t care about his age,  
and for her, her own wellbeing. She only saw the money he had, and that’s what she would get.  
Nights with him were quick, get in, get it done, get out. She didn’t mind. If Maxwell needed a  
quick fix, then so be it.

  
She reached to the night stand, pulling at the wad of cash he practically threw at her upon  
reaching her apartment. The man was rough but he paid well, whether he meant to or not. The bed shifted, and off he went, dragging his clothes to the washroom. Her green eyes followed,  
watching the door slam closed, and she sighed. Oh well. She pulled herself out of bed, grabbing  
a robe from the hanger nearby and pulling it over herself, fixing her hair in the mirror. 

There was always something with the moody old man, she thought, and she had wanted to ask. Hell, she probably saw him more than any other man she meets, she should know why he’s always blubbering over nonsense when in the act.  
She supposed it wasn’t her place to wonder, he probably had someone else to vent to…

  


  


  
It was late in the evening when Maxwell had returned home, his attitude poor. Wilson wasn’t in sight, which was expected. Maxwell called for him, only to receive silence. He began looking through the rooms, finding them empty. Apart of him began to panic, had Wilson actually escaped. He was ready to charge to the next wing when he stopped outside the kitchen, the back doors left open, sunset seeping through.

He walked over, seeping outside and gazing around. He then remembered the garden, maybe his bird was there.  
Unfortunately, the bird was not. He gave a groan, he’d have to hunt the little man down then before he tried to tell authorities, so much for a success. Turning on his heel, he planned to go inside, though, loud splashing caught his attention. Beyond the field of grass contained a river, one he never personally went to, but he had an idea. Mud clung to his shoes, much to his dislike, he combed through the tall grass that protected the river. Sure enough, there was the  
bird, wading in the shallow bridge of dirt in the river, unaware a fox was watching. 

Maxwell watched Wilson, watching him lean and cup the water, smiling warmly. Apart of the man wanted to smile, a very chunk so small you'd need a glass to see. He was angry, having finished buying a slut, coming home to find the little man had dirtied himself and was expected to go inside his home like that.  _Not leaving a note, not closing the doors properly, Maxwell Carter wouldn't lose him, couldn't lose him. What  the man ran, what if he-_

He sighed, gushing his thoughts as he straightened himself, pulling his feet from sinking into the mud.

"What is it you think you are doing, Percival?"

Wilson almost instantly spun around, startled by the sudden voice of the British man. He blinked, looking around before opening his mouth to speak,"I got bored."

Maxwell didn't change his thoughts, hands clasped behind his back,"and did you bother to think about the mess you are making? Prancing around in the mud and filthy water?" Wilson didn't say anything, looking to his feet like a child. Maxwell continued,"Perhaps I should chain you up and leave you in the river, since you like it so much."

Wilson raised his eyes, confused by the sudden threat. Maxwell only stared back, freezing the gold of Wilson's eyes with his own. Wilson felt suddenly more scared than he had this morning, the way Maxwell stared at him, staring daggers that he could almost physically feel. Maxwell sighs, the points  beside him, gesturing for Wilson to go over to him.

The small male was hesitant at first, but after receiving a snap of a finger and a repeated point, he hurried over, meeting up close with Maxwell's glare. There was an aura with the elder man, dark,  _dangerous._ The ravenette was grabbed by the arm, yanked from the mud and over the field, nearly being thrown into the gate of the garden. He peered back at Maxwell, who was unraveling a hose from it's holder. He turned the faucet, pumping cold water from the end and pointing to Wilson's bare feet, cleansing the mud and muck. Wilson assisted, lifting his feet and turning when needed. 

As soon as his feet were clean, he was grabbed and pulled inside, lead to the kitchen table where he was to sit. Maxwell was across the room, grabbing for towels and coming back, he began wiping the dripping water from Wilson's feet. Wilson only watched, quiet and unsure of the man before him. He was happy before, and now dangerously mad.Had work been bad ?? "I expect you not to play in the water again. Makes a big mess, you will clean up the water you brought in, you understand me." Maxwell looked up,staring sternly at the face of the younger man. Wilson looked sad, brought down. Surely he didn't like the river that much. "Percival, I am speaking to you." Wilson looked to meet his capture' s gaze, nodding slightly,"yes. I heard you.." Maxwell continued,"You should speak up then, rather than sit silent. I do not like to repeat myself and I won't when speaking to you." He stood straight, towel in had as he gazed down at his bird, who stared back. He chuckled, bringing the empty hand of his to Wilson's face, a single finger making contact with his cheek, making the younger jump. The elder smiled, rubbing the skin slightly until he saw how uncomfortable Wilson appeared. She was uncomfortable too.. His smile faded and he pulled his hand away as if he was burnt. With a small snarl, he tossed the towel to Wilson, pointed to the floor, and spoke with authority,"I expect this mess cleaned." He watched Wilson, who nodded and squirmed away from the older man eagerly. Seeing as Wilson was doing what he was told, the Brit turned and went to a wine holder near the back of the kitchen, selecting two wines he enjoyed and tucking them under an arm. He grabbed a glass from his cupboard and headed for the stairs. He paused, and glanced over to the cleaning bird. "I will be upstairs, do not bother me. Once you are finished, do anything other than make another mess, please." And with that, he went upstairs, leaving a confused man behind, sitting on the floor in bare feet, towel in hand. It wasn't long for the mess to be clean, mostly wiping up water for a dry floor. Wilson found himself alone and taskless once again. His kidnapper wanted to be alone upstairs, so Wilson had to find himself with something else to do. So he wandered, careful to avoid any chances of messes, he looked through rooms. Quite a few were closets with different clothing objects or solid objects. Some doors lead to different rooms, one he found as a sitting room, another an empty office. Many rooms were empty, he noticed. Maxwell did live alone, and it showed with many of the rooms having nothing but a box in them. Wilson found an empty room at the end of the west wing, furthest from where Maxwell would be. The room was small, but rather pleasing to Wilson, cozy he thought, the room light brightening the pale grey room. There were no boxes in this room, though there were marks on the walls. Wilson put a hand over them, noticing that most of them were painted over. Something was painted over, Wilson would have to ask what the room was. On one wall was a fireplace, the second he's seen in the mansion. Two candles sat on top, odd compared to the rather empty room. He was reaching up to grab one when a loud crash echoed from the other end of the mansion. Wilson turned quickly and dashed, meeting in the main room with a ruffled Maxwell. The tall man was standing over a broken bottle which had been thrown to the floor, wine splashed upon the wooden flooring in cherry red. Maxwell faced away from Wilson, head hung low and heaving heavy breaths. It was silent before Wilson dared to speak, raising his hands and holding them to his chest, he stepped forward, "Maxwell...A-are you alright?" Maxwell didn't answer at first, still and heaving. Eventually he made a grunt sound and turned, his eyes downcast before gazing to meet Wilson's. He had been crying, the young man noticed. "You're not Charlie..." It was almost faint, too faint for Wilson too catch, a small drunken whisper that could be gone with the wind with no notice. Wilson tilted his head,"What?" Maxwell made an irritated groan, covering his face in his hands,"YOU are not CHARLIE. YOU do not ACT like her." He peered up at the confused Wilson, his blue eyes staring at the man he had taken,"Yet you remind me so much of her-" He had then quickly moved to Wilson, backing the small man into the wall, slender fingers grabbing around thin wrists,"-The way you speak, the way you present yourself, even by appearance..." Maxwell let a wrist go, reaching and taking some of Wilson's black hair into his finger tips, rolling the locks with their familiarity. Wilson was frozen, unsure how to react to a drunken man telling him he reminded him of a woman he obsessed over. He wanted to speak, though was interrupted, two hands on his shoulders, Maxwell bowing into his chest. Low sobs could be heard from the stick of a man, his body shuddered in each gasp for breath as he cried, he was sure to hold Wilson's shoulders gentle. He began to lower himself to his knees, hands shaking and and voice wavering in small apologies," I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I did this to you.." He had began curling in n himself. Wilson sat to his knees and watched, looking at the scene he was in. So a woman named Charlie hurt him? And he himself reminded Maxwell of her, so that's why he was kidnapped? He would've asked but with the man falling apart in front of him, he didn't have the guts to bring it up. Slowly he reached a hand over and lightly stroked Maxwell's back, causing the older man to jolt. Maxwell looked up, sniffling his hooked nose and examining Wilson's features. "You haven't run... Why?" That was a hard question for Wilson to answer. He didn't have much going for him, could barely afford to eat, didn't have family or friends. Maxwell was correct, Wilson had nothing outside of what he had now. He only shrugged in response, and Maxwell sat up,"You could run away now and I wouldn't stop you...Why aren't you?" He shrugged again, and this only infuriated Maxwell more. He gripped Wilson's shoulders again sternly, pushing a serious expression,"I came and took you against your will and all you have to say about not running is 'I don't know'?" Wilson looked to the floor, shifting his jaw in his mouth before speaking," I don't know why.. I'm terrified..I don't know you and I don't know the situation...But I just don't want to live nearly homeless anymore.." He lifted his gold eyes from the floor, meeting Maxwell's. They stared for a long moment, Maxwell's grip on the younger's shoulders softening, sliding down his arms to his hands. He gave a drunk hiccup, looking at the delicate hands of a man he didn't know either. He stifled another sob, shaking his head. Damn himself when he was drunk.. He was either angry or a blubbering mess. He brought a hand to his lips and gently kissed the softer flesh, giving it a slight squeeze," Percival.. If I ever harm you, threaten to harm you, anything that makes you unsafe, you leave this place. I have abducted you from the safety of your home and you have every right to leave and I won't come after you..." Wilson nodded, still in his position. Maxwell coughed another cry, nodding and lying on his side, rest his head in Wilson's lap. "Thank you.." He shut his tired eyes, letting Wilson sit in silence as he quieted himself to calm down. Wilson didn't have another thing to say. He didn't quite grasp everything yet and would definitely have a sitting to think through all of this. Wilson rubbed Maxwell's shoulder, watching the man breathe more steadily, an arm gently around his own waist. He would have to figure out how to fix this man if he had any plans to stay, he thought.


End file.
